and then there's you
by singingharlot
Summary: In which Stiles is a genie—Derek's genie, in fact. And Derek doesn't seem to understand what that means.


His claws are out the second smoke starts coming out of the weird kettle he found at a pawnshop. The self-loathing and guilt he feels instinctively at the sight of the smoke taste bitter and stronger than the blood in his mouth when his fangs accidentally cut his lip.

He knew that stupid kettle wasn't worth the money he paid for it. He should've known better than to think that it was a normal albeit a bit kitschy gift for Laura's birthday. It never looked right to begin with.

He throws the kettle to the far side of the living room and drops into a defensive crouch. He glares as a form begins to appear from within. As the smoke clears, Derek sees a man's body—no, a boy's. One that's not much shorter but definitely less built than he himself is, clothed in a plaid shirt and loose pants. The short buzz-cut is the first thing he notices about the boy's head, but the mouth is a close second, as it's already moving rapidly. His eyes are open, guile yet pleased about something. Nothing about him seems hostile or aggressive.

But that doesn't mean anything.

"Man, oh man. Finally someone let me out of that stupid lamp. You don't know how cramped it is in there and how tiring it is to see the same old walls day in and day out for centuries. Not that it's actually been centuries, but hey! Maybe it actually has been some odd number of centuries since someone summoned me. What year is it? Ohhh, did you guys start colonizing other planets yet? That always seemed cool, even though you guys haven't actually developed any technology for intergalactic travel last time I was out. But maybe now you have. So—"

"Shut up." Derek scowls threateningly at the boy, whose babbling was almost too annoying for him to handle. But since he's not actually a threat, his claws and fangs retract. "Who are you? What are you?"

The kid throws his hands up at him. "Dude, how am I supposed to 'shut up' and answer your questions at the same time? Those are two opposite demands. And shouldn't you know what I am? I mean, genies weren't exactly unheard of, even though there's so few of us. Or did some of us break the curse or fewer people got suckered into being genies? Have you not actually heard of genies?"

"Genies don't exist." Derek interrupts. He glares at the boy again. "Give me an answer."

"Geez, I just told you. I'm a genie. A being that grants three wishes, any kind of wish, except murder, resurrection, world peace, and anything too kinky." He looks Derek up and down and winks. "Well, maybe not the too kinky part. I'm Stiles, by the way. You can use one of your three wishes as proof if you want. Want anything? I can guarantee practically anything aside from what I mentioned earlier."

He doesn't hear a lie in Stiles' words, but then again, do genies have heartbeats? He seems pretty harmless right now, and Derek can always find a way to defend himself later on.

"No? No wishes? C'mon, you must want something."

Derek should probably buy some earplugs to protect his ears though.

"Go back inside your kettle or something. I don't want anything from you." Derek says.

Stiles pouts. "But I just got out of there! And it's a lamp, not a kettle! Don't you know anything about genies?" He looks around the room, stares interestedly at the television and the laptop before snapping his fingers. The room immediately cleans itself, Derek's mug hops off the coffee table and in the direction of the kitchen, the afghan on the couch straightens itself out on his couch, and the dust on his media table disappearing.

"Stop that." Derek grits out. "Leave my things alone."

"Fine, fine." Stiles snaps again, and everything settles down. "Just proving to your ungrateful ass that I'm actually a genie with magical powers." He wiggles his fingers childishly at the word 'magical.'

Derek ignores that. "I don't care if you are a genie or whatever. I'm not going to wish for anything. Go back into your 'lamp' or leave. It's your choice." He turns around and tries to leave the room.

But Stiles somehow manages to appear in front of him without actually taking a step. "Hey, hey, what do you mean you're not going to wish for anything? You must want something. I mean, look at your scowly face. You don't exactly look happy at the moment."

Derek glares at him. "I want you to leave me alone."

Stiles lets him go, saying, "Fine. But you know where to find me when you figure out what you want. Meanwhile, I'll just discover what new technologies people have invented." He gives a maniacal cackle that doesn't affect Derek in the least.

* * *

A/N: The title is borrowed from Greg Laswell's _And Then You_, which is the song that's currently playing on my Spotify. I haven't uploaded any recent writings since May of last year, except this season finale seem to inspire me to start writing again. Let's just hope that I'll actually manage to finish this and write well.


End file.
